Death is a Quiet Wave
by Spoony Gelato
Summary: A recent unsub has the team at a loss, between a mix of missing girls and an amateur detective that seems to keep popping up, what will shock the team more? The violence, or the tragic story behind it? Rated M for violence and trigger-content, as well as language and suggestive themes. *changed title*


Casino psychology. The floors are covered with a vibrant carpet unappealing to the eye. Therefore, you don't look down, your gaze is centered on the machines. Bells are always ringing, despite the fact that no one's won anything. Oxygen is pumped into the building, so the people inside stay away, and similarly the windows are covered, so you aren't tempted to leave by what's outside. The best method? When you really start to win, they start to bring you free drinks. The drunker you are, the more reckless you get, you begin to lose and want to win it all back, cocky and confident in the abilities you simply don't have. It's a delicate process, but the casino industry has been using it for years, and they have perfected it. Not too many would think to accuse the casinos of using this kind of manipulation, then again not too many people like to think about much besides winning when in a casino.

A dark haired female walked through the brightly lit casino, soft brown curls tumbling down her back and framing her pale heart shaped face. She smiled, a dainty polite smile glossed pink and pretty, her eyes large and sparkling green. She approached another male and sat beside him. "Gaspard." Her voice was low and she leaned closer to the young man, though he barely glanced at her. "Oui cherie?" His lips twitched and he glanced at her, his look different from that of the female. His hair was black and spilled messily into his eyes, large gray orbs like storm clouds rolling in over the sea. He was slightly paler than her, though only by a shade or two. He leaned back and sighed, his cards resting on the table. Several small stacks of chips sat in front of him, and he waved off the waitress that came by to offer him a free drink. He was more than aware of the tricks they tried to pull here, he was smarter than them. The waitress frowned and glanced at the female. "Perhaps for your-" "_ma soeur._" He looked up full at the woman, amusement dancing in his eyes. "She's my sister." The young woman beside him snorted impolitely, and looked at the waitress dismissively. The waitress scoffed and walked off, thoroughly insulted. "You didn't have to dismiss her Antoinette." Gaspard returned to his cards, smiling playfully at his sister's royal air. She sighed dramatically and leaned back in her seat. "I'm famished _mon frere._" Gaspard collected his chips and nodded at the table dealer, smiling at the other frustrated players and cashing in his total of ten thousand. At 19 he was an amazing gambler, and had made most of his extra money in the casino. A fake ID got him a lot of placed, with his calm assured attitude he was never really questioned.

"One loss for every three wins." Antoinette gazed him over and smiled. "One out of three, those odds are better than most people in here." He grinned as he led her out of the casino, nodding at the security guard in a friendly manner. He'd have to switch casino's soon, just to avoid any suspicion of his age. "It's a pattern I've realized and reacted to accordingly, I simply lower my standards the third time around and get what I want usually." Glancing around he seemed anxious, though his demeaner didn't give him away. "Go ahead." Antoinette turned and glared at her brother, shoving him as they exited the building. "What did you get yourself into this time?" Her slight French accent slid out as a hiss, angry and spiteful. He sighed and stumbled momentarily, but merely shook his head. "As usual trouble, sticking my nose where it doesn't belong and whatnot." He seemed irritated as he passed a pale hand through his dark hair, grinding his teeth as he was prone to do. The two stopped in the parking lot, the darkness between the cars and the building prominent. Gaspard held his breath and looked around, and made a final decision. "Take the bus." Antoinette heard the caution in his voice, it caused her to falter for a minute before nodding. It was times like these she knew not to question him, he could sense danger better than she could and so she turned on her heel and stalked toward the safety of the bus stop.

His anxiety for his sister evaporating, Gaspard tensed his shoulders and walked easily to his car. He fumbled in his pocked for his keys, taking care in placing his money safely tucked under the driver's seat where they wouldn't think to look. Them being the thugs approaching him rapidly at that very moment.

_Stop. Approaching from the left. The taller one will attempt to pin me against the car, deflect outstretched arm by attacking the funny bone. His friend will retaliate to compensate for his failure. The crowbar I can dodge, then elbow him in the ribs, then hit him in the face. The taller one will recover and I can fend off his hits, pushing them away easily and striking back viciously. Finish off with a swift kick to the stomach for the taller man, and stomp on his friend's pelvis._

With a determined look he barely turned before the taller man of the two attempted to pin him, and he retaliated swiftly and efficiently. When the two lay crumpled in pain, he dusted his hands and nodded to the two. "Well then." He slid into his car and quickly spun out of the parking lot, his heart racing in his chest and his eyes glued to the road. He could think of nearly everything, but the one thing he didn't think of was that they would be waiting. That they would have someone drive full speed into the side of his car. His stomach lurched violently and he glanced out the window, a nameless crony gazing back at him with firey ambition. The air was forced out of his lungs, as though in slow motion he gazed down as he felt several of his ribs cracking. His car rolled over from the pure force and his hands shot up to brace himself against the roof. He shivered and glanced around as the car stopped, unbuckled himself hurriedly and scrambled out of thecar. Whirling around he faced three large men. "Uh...bonjour?" He offered a nervous smile before he blacked out, hit over the head with a baseball bat.

He awoke the next day in crippling pain. Okay, so he wasn't tied up again in some warehouse. That means they assumed him dead when they hit him and left him. Standing up he sighed and choked back the sour taste in his mouth. He had a splitting headache and looked around, his car had been taken as to not alert anyone which meant his money was gone. His wallet was missing, so no more fake ID. Limping back onto the road he touched the back of his head and felt the matted hair. Dried blood. Shaking his head he found, to his delight, his cell phone was still present. Despite the filth on him, mostly mud and blood, he dusted himself off as best he could and covered his ears as he approached an intersection. Looking around he noticed a black car slow down as it approached him, and he flinched thinking back on the previous events. "Need a ride?" He looked over and was surprised to see David Rossi of all people in the driver's seat. He smiled to himself, noting that his luck was already turning around. "That would be lovely." He slid into the car effortlessly and buckled himself in as Rossi pulled away from the curb. "What happened?" Gaspard glanced at the FBI agent sitting next to him. "Well...trouble. I got involved with some bad guys and they took care of me...though very sloppily I may add." Rossi snorted and glanced him over. "Any severe injuries?" Gaspard shook his head, then grimaced as the pain sharpened and his vision swam. "_Non_ just a small head wound."

"What's your name?" Gaspard leaned back and closed his eyes. "Gaspard Holmes. Like Sherlock Holmes only half French." He grinned and saw the skeptical look on Rossi's face. "You're David Rossi though. I have all your books." Rossi seemed to relax, happy to be in the presence of a fan. The two continued their idle conversation, Rossi expressing concern every time Gaspard flinched. The conversation was cut short when David's phone rang, and he excused himself to speak with the person on the other line. Gaspard used every shred of willpower he could not to psycho-analyze Rossi, but kept himself away from the conversation with incredible but easy will power. He slid out of the car as Rossi pulled up to the hospital, and waved goodbye since he remained on the phone locked in conversation. Rossi gave him an apologetic smile and pulled away. Turning to the parking lot he strode to the back and winked at his sister, her bright red car glinting in the light. She looked angry, but her gaze softened seeing his state. "Are you sure you don't want to go inside?" Gaspard shook his head and slid into the passenger seat. "They think I'm dead, better to keep it that way." He kept his meeting with Rossi to himself, there was no reason his sisterr had to know. Besides, he had a bad feeling they'd be crossing paths again. The amateur detective always managed to get himself in trouble, and if the BAU was here that meant very bad things lay in the near future.


End file.
